Friendly Fauna (Star Trek XI, NC-17)

[browngirl]

Title: Friendly Fauna
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Kirk/Sulu/Tentacle Monster
Summary/Prompt: This alien planet had rather welcoming fauna... (As prompted by enkanowen at rounds_of_kink)
Content Advisory: Dubious consent, tentacles, crack-infused storytelling.
Acknowledgements: lomedet for alpha reading and encouragement.
Disclaimer: None of these characters or their settings belong to me.
ETA: Now with amazing fanart! The Wonderous Oddities of Nature (rated R) by froggie!



"Captain!" Sulu shouted into his communicator as he crashed through the dense undergrowth, his apologetic twinges at crushing unknown plants long since drowned out by alarm at Kirk's calls for help. "Captain, can you hear me?" Why was Kirk so damn stubborn? Sulu fumed as he struggled in the direction the Captain had gone; he'd insisted on checking out that odd animal lifesign for sentience, reassuring Sulu so charmingly that he actually kept examining the plantlife instead of insisting they stick together. Now, feckless as ever, Kirk needed to be rescued, to say nothing of how he's handsome enough that Sulu's worry for him wasn't entirely professional. "How many assailants?" Damn the man.

Kirk's voice crackled through the communicator, distorted by his gasps and evident struggles. "Not so much a who as a what -- fuck, stop that -- and a bit difficult to quan-- ow!" A ripping sound snarled across the link. "-- just, a little help please, Mr. Sulu? I -- oh, shi--!" Kirk's voice vanished into a muffled gurgle.

"Hold on, Captain!" Sulu caught the first noise of struggle ahead. "I can hear you, sir! I'll be there momentarily." Heading downhill, he kicked his way towards Kirk's increasingly desperate voice, broke through unexpectedly, and caught a sapling to keep himself from falling into a small boggy clearing.

Kirk was in the bog. Or rather, he was above the bog, suspended and thrashing in the green-dappled-yellow hold of what looked like a monster octopus multiplied, its bulbous head nearly hidden below the thrashing clutch of tentacles. Bits of black cloth speckled its arms, far too many to count, as it pulled Kirk's limbs wide, tipping him upright enough for Sulu to see that his thighs were bare and golden with a clutch of tentacle-tips writhing between them and red sucker-marks scattered across them, that his tunic and shirt were shredding under the assault of more tentacles and his mouth smeared with vibrant green, and that his curses weren't in alarm. "Oooh, God, yes," Kirk mumbled, "fuck me, yeah, goddammit you fucking squiddy beauty fuck me..."

For a moment, Sulu stared quite unprofessionally, watching his captain writhing and entangled and apparently enjoying the experience. Then he grabbed for his phaser, but the delay doomed him; something sleekly and bonelessly muscular wrapped around his wrist, jerking his hand back as if it knew what he was reaching for.

"Oh, shit," he snarled, going for his katana, but the green-and-yellow tentacles whipped around his wrists, winding up his arms and yanking him into the air. His kicks just reverberated through them without shaking them loose, and more tangled themselves around his ankles, pulling his pants so tight they began to rip. Of all the ridiculous fucking ways to die, eaten by a giant alien octopus, and Sulu really hoped his Mom and Pavel would forgive him for it.

Suckers tore at his uniform as the mass of tentacles half-dragged, half-carried him towards Kirk, who dangled with head thrown back, hips thrusting, hair darkening with sweat as he writhed. Check. Sulu was about to be eaten by an alien octopus while the Captain got off on it. Cursing in three languages, Sulu struggled as fiercely as he could to absolutely no effect.

In fact, his gasping allowed a tentacle, smooth and thickly wet, to swipe across his mouth. "Fugh," he sputtered, trying to clamp his lips shut and only succeeding in squeezing some of whatever-it-was onto his tongue.

It tasted good. It didn't taste like octopus or mud or swamp. It tasted like green growing things, like living chlorophyll, like the smell of an arboretum full of happy plants; Sulu knew instantly it must be psychoactive, and forgave Kirk a little tiny bit for enjoying this.

Only a bit, he thought, as his pulse started to race, as his skin started to tingle, as he started to lose all spatial sense and his head started spinning. At least maybe by the time the octopus ate him he wouldn't mind anymore.

Sunlight flickered through the gaps in the tree cover, warm as fingers on Sulu's heating skin. The tentacles pushed him flush with a broad warm chest, another humanoid body like his, and it was already difficult to heave his eyes open as he looked up into Kirk's sweat-streaked, ecstatic face. Kirk had a tentacle in his mouth, sucking it like a pro, his tongue pink like a new petal against the glowing green. I am really fucking stoned, Sulu thought, shaking his head once with the last fading remnants of his common sense before he stuck out his tongue and licked Kirk's plump bottom lip.

The tentacle pulled out, like it was getting out of the way, but Sulu couldn't manage more than the faintest flicker of alarm before Kirk's tongue was flexing in his mouth, their lips crushed together as tentacles writhed all over Sulu's skin and twisted around his dick. Kirk's tongue was nearly as flexible and probing as the tentacles, and he tasted warm and delicious and moaned the entire time, while suckers pulled at Sulu's nipples and hickeyed his throat and oh, Christ, behind his balls. His eyes rolled back, Kirk's moans liquefying his brain, and Sulu pressed into his living bonds and groaned into Kirk's mouth as his consciousness started to shred like his pants had.

If possible, the tentacles got even bolder, flicking dense and damp over their faces, their throats, their backs and backsides and oh. Kirk's moaning hitched into a new, higher register just as Sulu felt something warm and slick twist into him and fuck it all but he was nearly about to come, already, right there and then.

As he thought about it Kirk came on him, groaning into his mouth, chest shuddering against his, blood-warm spurts against his belly. Sulu shuddered under the impact, belatedly noticing as his left hand closed around the flesh and bone of Kirk's shoulder, his right still restrained. He clutched Kirk's shoulder and gulped a huge green-scented breath and came like he was being squeezed by more than a clutch of tentacles, like he was inside the pulsing fist of the universe.

Kirk didn't stop, and neither did the tentacles smearing, twining, writhing around them, winding up around his wrist and Kirk's arm to tie them together. Sulu's consciousness seriously began to melt around then, into sensory impressions of crushed-herb green and Kirk's musky sweat, of chest pushing against chest and tongues tangling, of boneless twisting and stroking all over and inside him. Somewhere after biting Kirk's vulnerable lip and squeezing down on a throbbing tentacle, between shuddering down from one orgasm and writhing up into another, while sobbing with overstimulation as his heart pounded like it would burst, Sulu eventually must have passed out.

************************


Drifting awake to the soft electronic beeping of Sickbay, dressed in scrubs and covered with a blanket, Sulu sat up, winced at the throbbing in his temples and his ass, and slumped back over onto his side.

A little table sat by his bed piled with scraps of cloth and various useful items, including the welcome sight of his katana; Kirk lay just beyond in the next bed over, similarly dressed and mostly unbruised, facing Sulu with his head propped on his hand. In the low Gamma shift light his eyes were dark beneath heavy lids as he smiled downright serenely. "How are you there, Mr. Sulu?"

Sulu did not say, 'How am I supposed to be after an involuntary threesome with you and a tentacle monster?' He definitely didn't roll off the biobed and punch his Captain right in a bright blue eye. He allowed himself an otherwise very unprofessional eyeroll and said, "Fine, sir."

"Yeah, yeah." Kirk gave him an eyeroll in return. "Speak freely, Lieutenant."

Sulu clenched his fists on the blanket, discarded several statements as rather too free, and finally asked, "What. The. Fuck."

Kirk just shrugged. He'd probably slept with a tentacle monster before, once or twice or twenty times. "We're not sure yet exactly what that creature was, but as you can see after we both lapsed into unconsciousness we were released unharmed. Commander Spock theorizes that it was attempting communication. It did manage some limited telepathy with me, but I take it none with you."

"You talked to it? Couldn't you have told it to, you know, stop?" Sulu pounded the bedrail once before he restrained himself. "Why does this kind of thing always happen when I'm on a mission with you?"

"This kind of thing?" Kirk tilted his head a little, looking curious. "I think this is the second, okay, fourth tentacle creature we've met so far, and definitely the first that was this frisky."

"This! Where I end up hanging off a cliff or half-naked or, or all naked with a tentacle up my--" Sulu cut himself off, groaned, and rolled onto his back.

"Are you really not okay?" Kirk asked with carefully calibrated gentleness, open enough for any answer.

Sulu sighed. "No, I'm okay. This was just... undignified." He might have wondered a time or three what Kirk's lips tasted like, but he'd figured he'd never find out. Certainly not this way.

"Well, good." Kirk flopped down on his back, folding his hands behind his head as if he lay on something more comfortable than a Sickbay biobed. "Because looked at the right way it was kind of fun. You're an amazing kisser, you know." Sulu just groaned again, covering his face with one hand. "And I thought it was very friendly, all things considered. I, huh. It may have agreed with me that you're hot."

Sulu added the other hand, pressing the heels of his hands onto his closed eyes until he saw glowing blobs. "It would be worth a month in the brig to punch you," he replied, blinking up at the dim ceiling as Kirk snickered. Eventually, almost involuntarily, he added, "I'm hot?"

"Smoking," said Kirk. Sulu could hear him smirking. "And yeah, we're still speaking freely."

"In that case, sir, you are such an asshole," Sulu said to the ceiling. Only Kirk could get away with a loud full-throated laugh in Sickbay, as well as about a million other things. As he listened, Sulu draped his arm across his eyes, gave in, and smiled.